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Of virtuous, love-sick youths. You too shall Now sweetly pensive, bending o'er the stream, reign,
Mark the gay floating myriads, nor molest Celestial Venus, though with chaster rites, Their sports, their slumbers, but inglorious dream Addrest with vows from purer votaries heard. Of evil fled and all creation blest?
Or else, beneath thy porch, in social joy
Sit and approve thy infant's virtuous haste,
Humanity's sweet tones while all employ
To lure the wing'd domestics to repast !
There smiling see a fop in swelling state, The Sun wakes jocund--all of life, who breathe
The turkey strut with valour's red pretence, In air, or earth, and lawn, and thicket rove,
And duck row on with waddling honest gait, W'ho suim the surface, or the deep beneath, And goose mistake solemnity for sense! Swell the full chorus of delight and love.
While one with front erect in simple pride But what are ye, who cheer the bay of bounds'
Full firmly treads, his consort waits his call, Whose levell’a thunder frightens Morn's repose' Now deal the copious barley, waft it wide, Who dray the net, whose hook insidious wounds
That each may taste the bounty meant for all. A writhing reptile, type of mightier woes?
Yon bashful songsters with retorted eye I see ye come, and bavock loose the reins,
Pursue the grain, yet wheel contracted flight, A general groan the general anguish speaks, While he, the bolder sparrow, scorns to fly, The stately stag falls butcher'd on the plains, A son of freedom claiming nature's right.
The dew of death hangs clammy on his cheeks. Liberal to him; yet still the wafted grain, Ah! see the pheasant Auttering in the brake,
Choicest for those of modest worth, dispense, · Green, azure, gold, but undistinguish'd gore! And blessing Heaven that wakes their grateful Yet spare the tenants of the silver lake!
strain, -I call in vain—they gasp upon the shore.
Let Heaven's best joy be thine, Benevolence. A yet ignobler band is guarded round
While flocks soft bleatings, echoing high and With dogs of war-the spurning bull their
clear, prize ;
The neigh of steeds, responsive o'er the heath, And now he bellows, humbled to the ground; Deep lowings sweeter melt upon thy ear
And now they sprawl in howlings to the skies. Than screams of terrour and the groans of You too must feel their missile weapon's power,
death. Whose clarion charms the midnight's sullen Yet sounds of woe delight a giant brood: air ;
Fly then mankind, ye young, ye helpless old ! Thou the mom's harbinger, must mourn the hour For not their fury, a consuming flood,
Vigil to fasts, and penitence, and prayer'. Distinguishes the shepherd, drowns the fold. Most fatal wars of human ávarice wage But loosen once thy gripe, avenging law!
For milder conflicts, love their palm design'd? Eager on man, a noble chase, they start; Now sheath'd in steel, must rival reason's rage
Now from a brother's side the dagger draw, Deal mutual death, and emulate mankind ? Now sheath it deeper in a virgin's heart. Are these your sovereign joys, creation's lords? See as they reach ambition's purple fruits Is death a banquet for a godlike soul ?
Their reeking hands in nation's carnage died ! Have rigid bearts no sympathising chords No longer bathing in the blood of brutes,
For concord, order, for th’ harmonious whole ? They swim to empire in a human tide. Nor plead necessity, thou man of blood !
But see him, see the fiend that others stung, Heaven tempers power with mercy-Heaven
With scorpion conscience lash himself the revere !
last ! Yet slay the wolf for safety, lamb for food ;
See, festering in the bosom where they sprung, But shorten misery's pangs, and drop a tear ! The fury passions that lạid nature waste ! Ah! rather turn, and breath this evening gale Behold the self-tormentor drag his chains, Uninjur'd and uninjuring nature's peace.
And weary Heaven with many a fruitless Come, draw best nectar from the foaming pail, Come, pen the fold, and count the stock's in. By pining fasts, by voluntary pains, crease !
Revenging nature's cause, he pleads his own. See pasturing heifers with the bull, who wields Yet prostrate, suppliant to the throne above, Yet budding horns, and wounds alone the soil!
He calls down Heaven in thunders to pursue Or see the panting spaniel try the fields
Heaven's fancied foes-O God of peace and love, While bursting coveys mock his wanton toil !
The voice of thunder is no voice from you ! Now feel the steed with youth's elastic force
Mistaken mortal ! 'tis that God's decree Spontaneous bound, yet bear thy kind con- To spare thy own, nor shed another's blocd: trol;
Heaven breathes benevolence, to all, to thee; Nor mangle all his sinews in the course,
Each being's bliss consummates general good. And fainting, staggering,lash him to the goal !
WRITTEN IN THE LAST WAR.
“ Yé gales * !"' they cried, “ ye cruel eastern ODE TO CAPTIVITY.
gales ! Adverse to Troy, conspiring with the foe,
That eager stretch the victor's swelling sails, OSTERN Captivity! from Albion's land
To what infriendly regions will ye blow? Far, far, avert the terrours of thy rod !
Shall we serve on Doric plains ? O wave not o'er her fields thy flaming brand !
Or where in Pithia Pyrrhus reigns ?
Shall Echo catch our captive tales?
Joyless in the sprightly vales
Apidanus thy beauteous current laves,
Say, shall we sit and dream of Simois' fairer
waves ? O spare from sanguine rites the silver foods ! “ Shall Delos, sacred Delos, hear our woes? Nor haunt with shapes obscene our unpolluted Where when Lạtona's offspring sprung to birth, woods !
The palm spontaneous, and ihe laurel rose, Is yet too weak, rapacious power, thy throne ?
O Dian, Dian, on thy hallowed earth; While the chain'd continent thy vassal waits,
With Delian inaids, a spotless band, The Rhine, the Danube, and the sounding Rhone,
At virtue's altar shall we stand Proclaim thy triumphs through an hundred
And hail thy name with choral joy
Inrok'd in vain for falling Troy?
Thy shafts victorious shall our songs proclaim,
When not an arrow fled to spare thy votaries
“ To Athens, art's fair empire, shall we rove? Thine revenge's dagger gleams :
There for some haughty mistress ply the loom, Thy fury bursts on Rome's devoted head, With daring fancy paint avenging Jove, In vain the Scipios liv'd, the Decii, Cato bled ! His forked lightnings flaming through the Be these thy bounds—whose laws with monarchs
To blast the bold Titanian race: To this fair isle how impotent thy hate !
Or deaf to nature, must we trace Where Pitt, so righteous Heaven and George
In mournful shades our hapless war? ordain,
What art, dread Pallas, to thy car,
That thunder shook on Afric's shore,? By thine, by Pyrrhus' lance, how lofty Ilion fell?
Ah see, exulting o'er her prostrate walls,
Bows the neck to Europe's yoke, Daughters of Albion ! strew his paths with flowers,
Chains are all our portion now, O wake for him the lute's harmonious chord !
No festal wreaths shall bind our brow,
Happy fair, who seated fir
Of cities storm'd and virgins' wrongs,
i Have you not heard how Sion's daughters mourn'd LATELY PUBLISHED BY THE TITLE OF FINGAL, &c. Their prostate land ?--how Greece her victims tore
Brown Autumn nods upon the mountain's head, From flaming altars ? --captive queens they turn'd The dark mist gathers; howling winds assail From Troy reluctant-on the sea-beat shore The blighted desert; on its mineral bed
Their eyes to Heaven were roll'd in vain, Dark rolls the river through the sullen vale,
On the bill's dejected scene
The blasted ash alone is seen, (sleeps ;
That marks the grave where Connal Behind them Troy a smoking ruin lies,
Gather'd into mould'ring heaps Before lie unknown seas, and black incumbent
From the whirlwind's giddy round, skies,
Its leares bestrew the hallowed ground.
Across the musing hunter's lonesome way The late conspiracy against the Portuguese Flit melancholy ghosts, that chill the dawn of day, government was planned amid the ruins of that unfortunate capital.
• An imitation of the first chorus in the Hecu· Senegal,
• Louisbourg ba of Euripides.
Connal, thou slumber'st there, the great, the
ODE TO YOUTH.
Youth, disdaining silver hairs,
Autumn's frowns and Winter's cares,
Dwell'st thou but in dimple sleek,
In vernal smiles and Summer's cheek?
On Spring's ambrosial lap thy hands unfold, Reut from the promontory's brow, They blossom fresh with hope, and all they touch And death has laid the mighty low.
is gold. The mountains mourn their consecrated tree; His country Connal mourns :-what son shall
Graver years come sailing by: rival thee?
Hark! they call me as they fly;
Quit, they cry, for nobler themes, Here was the din of arms, and here o'erthrown
Statesman, quit thy boyish dreams ! The valiant !--mournful are thy wars, Fingal ; Tune to crowds thy pliant voice, The caverns echo'd to the dying groan,
Or flatter thrones, the nobler choice!
Deserting virtue, yet assume her state;
Thy smiles, that dwell with love, ah! wed them
now to hate.
Or in victory's purple plain
Triumph thou on hills of slain !
W bile the virgin rends her hair,
Childless sires demand their heir, foes,
Timid orphans kneel and weep: As sportive infant's staff the bearded thistle mows.
Or, where the unsunn'd treasures sleep,
Sit brooding o’er thy cave in grim repose. Onward to meet this hero, like a storm,
There mock at human joys, there mock at hu. A cloudy storm, the mighty Dargo came;
Years away! too dear I prize
Fancy's haunts, her vales, her skies;
Wake my soul's expanding powers;
Come, by streams embow'r'd in wood,
Celestial forms, the fair, the good !
With moral charins associate vernal joys !
Pure nature's pleasures these-the rest are She follow'd to the war, and fought by Connal's
fashion's toys. side.
Come, while years reprove in vain, In wild despair, at Coppal's foe she drew
Youth, with me, and rapture reign! The fatal string, impatient flew the dart;
Sculpture, painting, meet my eyes,
Glowing still with young surprise !
This ear be deaf, this voice be mute !
Come, beauty, cause of anguisb, heal its smart,
He fell by love's unwilling hand,
Still my soul, for ever young,
Speak thyself divinely sprung!
Brute or man, in social chain
Still link'd to all, who suffer pain. Together rest in Earth's parental womb,
Pursue the eternal law !-one power above
vine is love.
TO THE THAMES.
Nearer to my grove, O Thames!
Lead along thy sultry streams,
Come and cool thy bosom there!
Trees shall shelter, Zephyrs play,
There the lily lifts her head,
I quit thy lyre-but still the train Fairest child of Nature's bed.
Of sweet sensations warms my brain.
Forget to haunt my sullen grore:
Nor Aows its own, or others good,
Emblem of yon faded flower, Or western gale of vernal day,
That, chill'd by frost, expands no more: Momentary bloom renews,
The dreary scene yet sometimes closes Heary with unfertile dews
When sleep inspires, on beds of roses, It bends again, and seems to cry,
Such dear delusions, fairy charms “ Gale and sunshine, come not nigh!
As fancy dreams in virtue's arms. Why reclaim from winter's power
For see, a gracious form is near! This wither'd stalk, no more a flower !"
She comes to dry my falling tear. Such a flower, my youthful prime,
Onc pious hand in pity spread Chill'd by rigour, sapp'd by time,
Supports my else unshelter'd head; Shrinks beneath the clouded storm :
The other waves to chase away What? if Beauty's beaming form,
The spectres haunting all my day: And Cambrian virgin's vocal air
She calls-above, below, around Expand to smiles my brow of care :
Sweet fragrance breathes, sweet voices soundThat beam withdrawn, that melting sound, Such a balm to wounded ininds, The dews of death hang heavier round,
Gentle Kitty, slumber finds; No more to spring, to bloom, to be,
Such a change is misery's due I bow to fate and Heaven's decree.
-Who wakes to grief should dream of you. Come then, Cambrian virgin, come, With all thy music seek my tomb, With all thy grace, thy modest state, With all thy virtues, known too late!
TO MISS K-- P. Come, a little moment spare
Ah! bow to music, bow my lays From pious rites and filial care !
To beauty's noblest art! Give my tomb-no heart-felt sigh,
To reach the bosom mine the praise,
But thine to melt the heart.
'Tis mine to close affiction's wounds, But bring the song—whose healing sounds
To brighten pleasure's eye: Were balm to all my festering wounds.
But thine, by sweet dissolving sounds, Bring the lyre—by music's power
To make it bliss to die. My soul entranc'd shall wait the hour,
My notes but kindle cold desire,
Ah! what I feel for thee!
Associate then thy voice, thy touch,
O wed to mine thy powers !
Connubial union our's !
KP, Thy magic hands alone inspire! But wake not once such swelling chords
WHY, Kitty, with that tender air, As rouse ambition's stormy lords,
Those eyes to earth inclin'd, Nor airs that jocund tabors play
Those timid blushes, why despair
Of empire o'er mankind ?
Ah! know, that beauty's surest arms
Are candour, softness, ease,
Your sweet distrust of pleasing charms
Is half the charm to please.
Respect your own harmonious art!
For love securest wounds, Sooth my widow'd bosom's pain !
Securest takes th' imprison's heart Its passions own thy melting tones;
Entranc'd by magic sounds! Sighs succeed to bursting groans;
If flowers of fiction's growth you call Soft and softer still they flow,
This wreath that truth bestows; Breathing more of love than woe;
Survey around your attick wall
Each pencilld form that glows.
· Drawings from antique statues.
And ask the youths! why heavenly fair
Of isles, concentering Nature's charms, Their tenderest vows inspires ?
Lapt in peaceful Ocean's arms; If Juno's more than regal air,
Of that Hesperian world, which lies Or fierce Minerva's fires ?
Beneath the smile of southern skies,
Where Zephyr waves unflagging wings, 'Tis bashful Venus they prefer
Where Albion's summers, Latian springs Retiring from the view,
Join thy autumns, smiling France, And, what their lips address to her,
And lead along th' eternal dance !
These enchanting scenes, and all
Are feeble types of living graces.
Of inoral charms, that mental throne
C'nclouded beauty calls her own. Your bosom's sweet treasures thus ever disclose!
Where all the Sun's meridian blaze For believe my ingenuous confession,
Is twilight gloom to virtue's ra s. Toe veil meant to hide them but only bestows
There with richer blended sweets A softness transcending expression.
Wedded Spring her Autumn meets; “Good Heaven!” cries Kitty, “ what language There Fernandes' brighter shore, I hear!
There a purer Chili's ore, Have I trespass'd on chastity's laws?
Fruits and powers are there combin'd
Is it no sattin apron, but gauze ?"
Thro' the tucker, too bashfully decent; THE COMPLAINT OF CAMBRIA.
KP SETTING TO From the fashion of Eve to the present.
MUSIC, AND SINGING ENGLISH
DONE INTO ENGLISH FROM THE WELCH ORIGINAL That veil only shades, with a tenderer light,
DEGENERATE maid, no longer ours !
Can Saxon ditties suit thy lyre?
To melt the soul, or kindle martial fire ?
It ill becomes thee to combine
Such hostile airs with notes dirine,
In Cambrian shades, the Druids' hallow'd bounds, voir celui qui le cultive se reposer sous son ombrage, respirer le parfum de ses fleurs,
Whose infaut voice has lisp'd the liquid Celtic
sounds. gouter la douceur de ses fruits : Je suis cet arbre, cultivé par vous, & la Nature m' a Revere thy Cambria's flowing tongue ! dorné une ame.
MARMONTEL. Though high-born Hoel's lips are duinb,
Cadwallo's harp no more is strung, Axid thy native mountains, Cambrian fair, And silence sits on soft Lluellyn's tomb : Were some lone plant supported by thy care, Yet songs of British bards remain Sar'd from the blast, from winter's chilling powers, That, wedded to thy vocal strain, In vernal suns, in vernal shades and showers, Would swell melodious on the mountain breeze, By thee reviving : did the favoured tree
And roll on Milford's wave to distant echoing Exist, and blossom and mature by thee : To that selected plant did Heaven dispense, With vegetable life, a nobler sense:
O sing thy sires in genuine strains ! Would it not bless thy virtues, gentle maid ?
When Rome's resistless arm prevail'd, Wouid it not woo thy beauties to its shade?
When Edward delug'd all my plains', Bid all its buds in rich luxuriance shoot,
And all the music of my mountains fail'd; To crown thy summer with autumnal fruit,
When all her flames rebellion spread, Spread all its leaves, a pillow to thy rest,
Firmly they stood-0 sing the dead! Give all its flowers to languish on thy breast,
The theme majestic to the lyre belongs, Reject the tendrils of th' uxorious vine,
To Picton's lofty walls, and Cambrian virgins And stretch its longing arms to circle thine?
songs. Yes; in creation's intellectual reign, Where life, sense, reason, with progressive chain, i Edward L. put to death all the Welch bards. Dividing, blending, for:n th' harmonious whole: -That plant am I, distinguish'd by a soul.
TO MISS K-P
WITH ANSON'S VOYAGE
RAPTUR'd traveller, cease the tales